Gunmage-Chapter 291: Ethics of a loaded gun

"More importantly, doesn’t he look familiar?"

Mirelle turned to Lugh, then quickly swivelled her head back toward the distant figure, her brows furrowing as she squinted into the gloom.

"Familiar? What do you mean familiar?"

At this distance, it was impossible to make out any distinguishing features. For all they knew, it could’ve been a statue, or even a scarecrow draped in rags.

The figure stood still beneath the flickering streetlamp, its outline blurred by the drifting mist and weak halo of moonlight.

But then she remembered Lugh’s strange right eye.

Ever since returning from the Cross family manor, Lugh had gone out of his way to obscure it with his bangs.

Not only did it make people marginally less uneasy around him, it also reduced the amount of attention he attracted—both from curious commoners and more suspicious types.

On a public outing like this, where they’d snuck out to mingle with the common folk, such measures were imperative.

Lugh began walking in the direction of the shadowy figure without saying a word.

The two girls exchanged a glance, then followed after him.

As they approached, the details gradually came into focus. The figure was no statue. He was a youth, leaning casually against a crumbling stone wall with one foot propped behind him.

His face, when he turned to look at them, was one they recognized.

His brows lifted ever so slightly in confusion.

"You? What are you doing here?"

Dressed in a long black trench coat that billowed faintly in the night breeze, with a tousled head of iron-grey hair, the person standing before them was unmistakably Cassius—scion of House D’Aramitz.

"I could ask the same of you,"

Sela replied coolly.

He shrugged, brushing a loose strand of hair behind his ear.

"I just wanted to get some fresh air."

Mirelle frowned, arms crossing.

"At this hour?"

Cassius blinked, then smirked.

"Hey now, don’t try to twist this on me. You girls aren’t exactly supposed to be out either. And you even dragged Lugh along. Hey, Lugh."

"Hey."

Lugh’s reply was flat.

Sela glanced around, nose wrinkling. The buildings here were in poor shape—cracked concrete facades, shattered windows.

The skeletal frame of an abandoned hospital loomed nearby, its broken panes catching the moonlight. The smell of spilled liquor clung to the air.

She spoke, slowly.

"Why pick a place like this? Alone. Are you trying to get robbed?"

"Yes."

There was a pause.

"Huh?"

Cassius elaborated, casually.

"Most nights, when I’m free, I come here and sit. I wait. Try to bait someone into robbing me."

He paused, then added with disquieting nonchalance,

"I’ve been in nineteen self-defense shootings."

.

.

.

Somehow, Lugh was starting to believe that all the talk about mages being crazy was just a convenient excuse to justify things like this.

"Are you a lunatic?"

"Shh! Keep your voice down."

Lugh frowned. There were a lot of ethical issues tangled in what this guy just said.

Sela stepped forward, her tone scathing.

"What kind of person are you? Luring people like that—is that your idea of fun?"

Cassius sighed and stood upright, stretching slightly before placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Oh, you sweet, sheltered lady."

She immediately brushed his hand off.

"Who are you calling sheltered?"

He shook his head, not bothering to argue, and spoke plainly instead.

"The people who tried to rob me would’ve killed me if they had the chance. I simply paid them back in kind."

"They wouldn’t have, if you hadn’t lured them."

"Is it so hard to just not steal?"

He countered.

"Anyone bold enough to mug me once will definitely do it again to someone else."

Sela frowned but didn’t respond immediately. Lugh observed this with mild surprise. Most people, when pressed with a counterpoint, ignored it completely and pressed on with their own logic.

It was why arguing with fools was a waste of breath—and in Lugh’s eyes, most people were fools.

After a moment, Sela finally responded.

"Still... you don’t know their circumstances. People don’t steal unless they have no choice."

"No. They would."

Her eyes narrowed.

"There’s always a choice,"

Cassius said, voice low but firm.

"How would you know something like that?"

Sela snapped.

"You’re from a noble household. You’ve never had to struggle for food. You can’t possibly understand the less fortunate. You’ve got no right to speak on their behalf."

"You may be right,"

He admitted.

"I have no right to speak for them. I haven’t lived that life."

A pause.

"But the same is true for you."

"I know,"

She said.

"Do you?"

He asked.

The question lingered.

"For argument’s sake, let’s say we can’t speak for them. Even then, there’s still a way to understand them."

She stayed silent.

Cassius continued.

"It’s by observing. I’ve seen people with nothing—people who can’t even feed their families—still choosing to work, to beg, to suffer, rather than steal.

I’ve seen it too many times to call it a fluke. There are thousands like that, and you can’t deny it. So what are we supposed to call those people? Stupid? Delusional?"

He exhaled slowly.

"Yes, I was born into privilege. But when people who’ve lived through the same hell refuse to throw away their morals, what excuse is left for those who do?"

Sela had no answer.

Lugh could think of a few counterpoints—but he knew better. Arguments like these led nowhere. Still, he couldn’t help but feel like this was what Xhi meant when she told him to "observe the humans."

He was deep in thought when Sela finally muttered:

"You know, I might’ve agreed with your point... if it didn’t come from a maniac who baits people and shoots them."

Cassius chuckled.

"Like you said—shootings. Not killings... Not all of them died."

"Wha—?!"

"Relax,"

He cut in before strolling over to where Lugh and Mirelle had sat to watch the argument unfold like an evening play.

He looked at them.

"I don’t believe you snuck out just to get into a dreary argument."

Mirelle flinched slightly.

"Snuck out? What are you talking about? What makes you think we snuck out?"

Cassius grinned and pointed a finger at Lugh.

"He’s here. That alone is enough for me to draw conclusions."

Selaphiel let out a weary sigh and rubbed her temples as if trying to physically push the headache back into her skull. Lugh, still seated, looked up at Cassius.

"Can I see your gun?"

He asked.

Cassius blinked.

"Uh... sure."

As he reached into his trench coat, his gaze landed on their garments—and then he froze.

"Wait... Why are you all dressed like that?"

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